


Sometimes You Love Them As Your Own Soul, and Sometimes You Just Fuck

by Pax



Category: Kings, Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Clubbing, Comment Fic, Don't Examine This Too Closely, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pax/pseuds/Pax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the eighth club the night after a day of reminders that the delegation from Albion will be arriving tomorrow (Well, today, Jack realizes as he squints at the watch on the arm draped around him) and that he therefore must be The Good Prince, one better than the heir to the Albion throne, who is apparently a World Class Fencer and Beloved of His People and All That Shit. Jack knocks back his gin and tonic and ponders his options.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes You Love Them As Your Own Soul, and Sometimes You Just Fuck

It's the eighth club of the night after a day of reminders that the delegation from Albion will be arriving tomorrow (Well, today, Jack realizes as he squints at the watch on the arm draped around him) and that he therefore must be The Good Prince, one better than the heir to the Albion throne, who is apparently a World Class Fencer and Beloved of His People and All That Shit. Jack knocks back his gin and tonic and ponders his options.

Muscular crewcut at the bar. Dark-haired stick of a waiter. Jack runs through the list of prospects in dismay. He's on the verge of doing the responsible thing and taking home the arm with the watch and the girl attached to it, who is now nibbling on his ear (God, why do women DO that?) when he sees the man at the corner table.

He has a neck like a prizefighter. His teeth are bad, and he keeps pulling these weird faces while he tells off some mincing lackey of a waiter for bringing him the wrong drink. His hair's floppy, and it's hard for Jack to tell the color until he turns his head into the light and has a halo of gold, with eyes that shine blue through the club, straight at Jack.

Well, that's settled then.

Jack pulls the watch-girl into his lap (brunette, he notices, with pale skin) and starts kissing her with ostentatious tongue, all while staring at the blond. He blushes and turns back to order another scotch from the bar, half-stealing glances back as the girl in Jack's lap giggles into his mouth. Jack runs his eyes up the blond's body as his hands wander up and up long legs, taking in tight brown slacks, a blazing red jacket, and high cheekbones.

When he meets the blond's eyes, he fingers the girl, and she arches and moans. The blond gets up from the table, ignoring the waiter with his scotch, and strides to the bathroom.

Some days, that's pursuit.

Jack waits a few moments, disentangles himself, nods to the detail to get rid of her, and follows the man into the bathroom. He's standing at the sink, hunched over, staring into the mirror.

"Take a picture, my friend, it'll last longer than you," Jack says as he saunters in.

The blond turns and smirks like one who's never known want. It's Jack's smirk, on another man's face, and Jack doesn't like it, imagines a look of stupid innocence in its place "Do I know you?"

"What?" Jack cocks his head to one side, incredulous.

"So I don't know you."

"Don't play games," Jack starts to say before the blond cuts him off, slamming him into the wall with a kiss that's all teeth and tongue. Jack kisses back, ferocious, palming the front of the blond's slacks as he walks the blond back from the wall into the handicapped stall. Jack undoes the brown pants, struggling with the button while the blond slams him back up against the stall door, sucking and biting Jack's neck in a way that is not making getting the pants open any easier. He comes up for air as Jack finally succeeds.

"I'm – " The blond starts.

"Do I look like I care?" Jack cuts him off as he grabs the blond's cock and pumps once, twice. The blond shudders, but his face darkens as he shoves Jack's jeans down over his hips and drops to the floor, tongue circling the head of Jack's cock once, twice, while one finger runs up the underside. Jack bucks forward, trying to fuck the blond's mouth, but his hands are on Jack's hips, pinning him against the stall door, so Jack settles for tangling his fingers in gold and trying not to cry out as the blond's cocksucking skills make him reconsider his earlier crack.

He holds out as long as he can, out of spite, before he comes with a shout that might have been "damn" and might have been something else and slumps against the door. The blond holds him up a bit, which Jack thinks is considerate until he throws back the latch and lets Jack fall out the open door. Jack catches the blond's waist on the way down, though, and pulls him down with him, spinning him around so the blond's sitting in between Jack's legs and Jack's bringing him off, pumping fast and hard. He buries his face in golden hair and a sweaty neck while the blond shouts "Mer, MER, OHGOD," and comes all over the red shirt.

Jack gets up, checks himself in the mirror, and goes out to the next club, the next girl. He leaves the blond on the floor of the lav.  
The next day in Court, Jack stands at attention behind his father as the Albion delegation's limo pulls up. A scrawny brunette assistant with jug-ears and gets out first, holding the door open for the prince. Jack's trying to keep his eyes closed as much as possible without actually squinting, and so all he sees at first is a red jacket and blond hair, and when that's enough for his eyes to widen in shock, he's met with the smirk of one who's never known want, staring back at him.

"His Highness, Prince Arthur of Albion," the jug-eared assistant announces, and Jack dies a little inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Blame MoonyThestrals. She started it.


End file.
